Bulgarian Wooing Practices
by luvscharlie
Summary: Millicent Bulstrode isn't your average Auror. She manipulated her way into the Academy and now she's been sent to Bulgaria on a secret mission where she runs into a man she remembers well from fourth year at Hogwarts. Viktor/Millicent


_Bulgarian Wooing Practices _by Luvscharlie

_Warnings: __Well, Millie belts him one, but he totally asked for it, coarse language _

_**A/N**__**:**__ Originally written for 2011 hp_beholder on Live Journal for Kinky_Kneazle's request who asked for romance, comedy, getting together fics, happy endings, interesting occupations and no underage characters. I kept with British English even when in Bulgaria and there's no accent for Viktor since I find it tedious to read and write. _

"Miss Bulstrode, can you guess why I've called you into my office?" Kingsley Shacklebolt—er, Minister Shacklebolt—she still had difficulty thinking of him in such a manner—asked from where he was seated behind his desk.

"To give you a blow job?" Millicent asked, popping her gum and putting her hands on her ample hips as she stood before him.

The Minister's mouth dropped open. "WHAT?"

"You said guess. That's my guess. Though from the look on your face, I reckon I must be wrong. Shame, too. You don't know what you're missing."

The Minister seemed to be struggling to regain his composure as Millicent flopped down in the chair across from his desk. Always good to throw him off balance before the conversation could tip in his favour.

"Miss Bulstrode-," Kingsley began.

"Auror Bulstrode," Millicent corrected.

Kingsley was not to be so easily dissuaded. "Auror-in-training-soon-to-be-out-of-a-job-if-she-doesn't-show-some-respect Bulstrode," Kingsley corrected further, and gave her a look that clearly indicated things would not go well if she continued to be sassy. Kingsley cocked an eyebrow to see if she was going to be sufficiently quiet for him to continue and she nodded, somewhat contrite, to indicate that she was listening. "I have an assignment for you."

Despite her silent agreement to behave herself, Millie couldn't stop herself from blurting out, "I refuse to do bathroom duty again. I've done it twice this month, and that cheater Alex Lang has yet to scrub the toilets once. If I have to do it again, I swear I'll be using her head as my toilet brush. She's got just as big of a mouth as I do."

"Somehow I doubt that, and I can see we'll be sending you back for another round of anger management." Kingsley sighed and jotted a note down on a scrap of parchment in her file.

Damn, another round of having her head shrunk and being told to use words to express her anger, not fists. As if any normal person ever did that. To take deep breaths, to—urgh, she didn't even want to think about it. How was she supposed to be an adequate Auror if she had to rein in her emotions all the time?

"Of course, that will have to wait." Kingsley folded his hands together and looked across the desk at her. "For now, you'll need to get home and pack a bag. I'm sending you on a special assignment as a favour to the Bulgarian Minister. He's quite the sports fan, you know. Seems someone has been stealing Quidditch secrets from the Bulgarian team, and selling them to the rival Irish, and you're going to find out who."

Millie was incensed. "And you'd send a top Auror for such a mundane and ridiculous mission."

"No, of course not. That's why I'm sending you."

_Hmph!_

She should have kicked the good Minister himself at that very moment and refused to go on this little assignment he had for her. She was informed that she'd been given this shit job because of her shit attitude, and she had no one to blame but herself. Probably didn't help matters that she'd insinuated that Shacklebolt's favour to the Bulgarian Minister had something to with a back alley fuck that was owed… particularly not since everyone knew the Bulgarian Minister was part goblin… and none of the good parts of a goblin either.

Still, the knowledge she'd got herself into this mess, didn't make things any more tolerable. Millie exited the train with a full bladder and a nasty temperament, only to find that there was no loo, and an impatient Quidditch star was pacing about and waiting for her to arrive.

"Finally!" said the man she recognised immediately from her Fourth Year at Hogwarts as Viktor Krum. Not that she had his poster on her wall back at home, and she certainly never looked at it while she had Mr Buzzy out and active. And she certainly never said his name in ecstasy when Mr Buzzy had done his job appropriately. Not her. Huh-uh. Nope. "What took you so long?"

She noted that his English had got better over the years. A lot better actually. But she took exception to this snippy tone. "I don't believe I have control over when the train gets here, you know?"

"I've been waiting on you for an hour." Viktor's tone wasn't even remotely contrite.

"Then you should have got here later!"

"I did not ask for this job," Viktor growled.

"Oh, and you think I did?"

They both glared at one another. This was off to a smashing start, thought Millie, as she followed after the stomping man, who hadn't even offered to carry her trunk. Sure, it was shrunk and in her pocket where he couldn't see it, but that did not excuse poor manners. Mr Buzzy would not be pleased that his hero was so lacking in the niceties. He might even have to get another inspirational poster for the wall to cover the old, poor-mannered one, if his opinion of Viktor Krum didn't change soon. Mr Buzzy had high standards.

The next morning, Millie awoke to impatient and very loud knocking on her door.

"Figures," she mumbled. "Get out of the freaking country and I still can't sleep late!"

The knock rapped again.

"What do you want?" Millie shouted at the offending noise, shoving the pillow over her head to try and block out the pounding.

"For you to do your job."

Damn, she recognised that voice, and what was he doing here anyway? She tossed the pillow aside and rose, stomping her way to the door. Millie flung it open, not bothering to don a dressing gown, and couldn't contain a grin at the sight of Percy Weasley ogling her boobs, which were peaking out of her pyjama top, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. Never buy sleep wear that isn't low cut—it was her personal motto. After all, you never knew who you might be sharing the bed with on any given night. And every male she knew was appreciative of her cleavage.

"You might get dressed before answering the door."

"I might, but then you wouldn't get to see the wonder that is my tits, now would you? And who am I to deny the less fortunate, skinny prudes who rush over to Bulgaria to do the Ministry's bidding."

Percy glared, but she was satisfied to see a blush rising up from beneath his stiffly starched collar.

"Minister sent you then?"

"It's certainly not a social call." Percy took a step into her room, looked at her state of undress and seemed to think better of it. "If I were you, I'd be rather embarrassed that the Minister had to send someone over to check up on you."

"So is that what you are? A professional babysitter? Boy, even Slytherins got better jobs after the war than you. But hey, we weren't traitors. I mean, bad choices and all that, but at least we didn't abandon our family and—" Percy's obvious growing anger made her stop. She'd done what she'd set out to accomplish; getting him riled made for the perfect start to what she felt certain would be an otherwise rotten day. A girl had to find her fun somewhere, and in Bulgaria she had to look harder than she did back at home.

"I'll have you know my job title happens to be Junior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic."

"And what exactly does that entail?" She held up her hand to stop his words from spilling forth. "No, let me guess. You get _under_his desk and blow him when he's having a bad day, Junior?" She put her finger to her chin, pondering. "I wonder what I'd have to do to get my own secretary. Sounds like there could be real perks."

Percy turned on his heel and drew his wand, clearly intending to Disapparate, rather than lower himself to a name calling contest. "If the Minister gets a Floo from Bulgaria's counterpart in the morning, be assured that he will not be pleased." With those final words of warning, Percy left, taking her fun target with him.

Millie dressed slowly. She wasn't about to rush right out and do what the Minister said. It wasn't like she was going to be fired or anything. Well, probably not anyway. She had dirt on Kingsley Shacklebolt, and she hadn't been afraid to mention that must-stay-secret tryst he'd had with her mother, who had not been on the side of light and good and warm fuzzy bunny rabbits during the war. That little bit of information had got her into the Auror Academy, but she'd busted her bum to prove she was worthy to be there.

She was not, however, an early riser, and she hated being told what to do. So, it was half ten when she finally made it to the office of the Bulgarian Quidditch Team to find a once-again pacing Viktor Krum.

"I'm here," Millie announced.

"I'm so glad our country's crisis did not disturb your beauty rest." He gave her a surly once over. "Perhaps you should go back and give it a few more hours."

_Oh no he didn't!_"Well, if Bulgaria requires beauty queens, someone should revoke your citizenship!" It wasn't her best comeback, but Krum looked annoyed enough to sate her… for now. Millie had come to terms long ago with the fact she would never be beautiful in most people's eyes, probably not many people even considered her average. She was fifteen stone and had problems with acne that not even the best potions had been effective in treating. In fact, at present there was a spot on her forehead that was ready to erupt. However, most people found her unattractive because they were idiots. She liked her large size, big tits and—well, she didn't like the bad skin, but it wasn't as if Viktor's skin was any better.

Viktor squinted at her as though sizing up her imperfections. "Well, your head's too big!"

"I could hang a robe on the end of that hooked nose of yours!" Millie retorted.

"I could—I could—You're not very nice." Even Viktor looked ashamed at his ridiculously inferior comeback.

Millie tsked. "Path-et-ic." She dragged out the word for effect. "Is that the best you can do, Krum?"

Viktor waved a finger at her, but insulting words seemed to be at a loss. "You just wait. I'll have the last laugh. Follow me."

Millie thought he might have grumbled "bitch" after that, but she couldn't make it out. And following him was certainly no hardship, since it meant she got a chance to ogle his tight arse. She was even beginning to think this assignment might not be too bad, when she looked up and saw where he was leading her and what awaited them in the middle of the large Quidditch stadium.

"Oh hell no!" Millie said and turned the other way. "I don't do broomsticks."

"I'm going to let the obvious insulting comeback pass by or we'll never get anything accomplished. You have to _do_broomsticks," Viktor said. "This is your assignment."

"No fucking way!" Millie pointed back at him. "And I saw what you did there."

"Did your Minister not tell you of your duties?"

"I'm here, aren't I? If there had been mention of broomsticks and flying, I would not be here."

Viktor had the nerve to look at her as though she were speaking a foreign language, as though the very idea of someone who did not like to fly was so outrageous a notion, he couldn't comprehend. "So you don't fly at all then…er…I just realised I have no idea what your name is."

Millie tore her eyes from the terrifying broomstick and looked at him with a side-glance, never letting the broom out of her sight for long. You never could tell about broomsticks. They were tricky. "My friends call me Millie."

"Okay then, Millie, I—"

"You're not my friend. Don't call me that."

Viktor groaned. "Then what exactly am I supposed to call you."

"I like Your Highness. Try that on for size."

"If it's your size, I doubt it would fit."

"Was that a comment to insinuate that I'm fat?" Millie demanded.

Viktor looked ashamed. "I—I'm sorry. I mean, I'm never this rude. I just—I think it's you. It must be your fault. You bring out the worst in me and I say things I don't mean and—"

"And?"

Viktor gulped visibly. "I am sorry."

"No doubt about that. Sorriest bloke I've met all week. Says a lot considering I'm visiting Bulgaria, and sorry seems to be the normal state of things."

Viktor punched the air and let out a feral yell. "You. Are. Impossible!"

Crossing her arms, Millie smirked. "Not the first person to tell me that."

Taking several long, deep breaths, Viktor began to count and unclench his fists as he calmed. "I would be shocked to learn otherwise. Perhaps we should get on with your lesson." He motioned towards the broom and then muttered, quietly, but still quite audibly, "So you can do your job and go back to your own damn country." Viktor took a few more calming breaths and spoke in a normal tone, though Millie thought it was taking real control on his part to manage it. "We have to convince the team that you're a new Reserve player in order for them to trust you enough so that you can get close enough to get any information from them. We must find out who is giving the Irish our secrets."

"You act like the Irish are Dark Wizards plotting to take over Bulgaria, not win some stupid sport, that by the way is the dumbest creation of Wizardkind. And whose bright idea was it to make me a Reserve player? Does this witch look like she'd ever lower herself to playing Quidditch? I think not! I'm not getting on that broom. I don't fly."

Looking truly interested, Viktor asked, "They do not teach flying at Hogwarts then? I thought it was a good school."

"Oh, they tried. But they can't exactly teach you to fly if you refuse to sit the broom, now can they?" She turned a suspicious eye upon him. "And are you trying to say Durmstrang is better than Hogwarts? Cause if you are, well, you take that back right now! Hogwarts would kick Durmstrang's ruddy bum any day. Oh wait, we did, back in the Tri-wizard Tournament, when Durmstrang was represented by some sodding moron—oh wait, that was you."

Viktor chuckled. "And now you're trying to row with me in order to avoid getting on this broom."

Millie cursed silently at his intuitiveness. _Nothing in hell will get me on that broom._

"Of course, not that I ever thought you'd be able to fly anyway. Couldn't do it even if you wanted to."

_Except that!_

"Give over that fucking broom, you Krummy Bastard. I'll show you what I _can't_do! You're nothing but an overgrown baboon."

Viktor stepped back, hanging tight to the broomstick. "What do you plan to do with this, exactly?"

"Ride it, you moron."

Viktor started to offer the broom then pulled it back. "You promise? Because I have no desire to be forced to have this removed from any of my orifices."

Smart that he was afraid. She almost had a little respect for him now. Almost. "Give me that, this instant."

"Okay," and Viktor handed over the broom, "but I really think you should let me show you a few things, since you've never ridden before."

"As if you could ever teach me anything about anything." Millie scoffed, and straddled the broom. It did nothing, and she bent her knees and bounced a bit. "Go, shoo, do something you stupid piece of—" and her words halted in a shriek as the broom rose seven feet, turned her upside down and dumped her off. She landed with a sharp jolt to her bum.

"Still think I can't teach you anything?" Viktor asked between sniggers.

"Shut up." The broom did the same thing four more times before Millie, in utter humiliation, stalked off the pitch.

Viktor tried to offer a consoling word or two, something along the lines of she was being too hard on herself; flying was hard; she's never sat a broom before, it would get better, but she punched him in the arm on her way by and glared a warning for him to keep his mouth shut.

The next morning Millicent slept late on purpose, sleeping on her stomach, however, given the sore state of her arse. The annoyingly hard knocks came at her door again.

"Go away," she shouted, shoving her head beneath her pillow.

"You know I can't do that." Percy's voice wafted through the door. "You're late. Again. And this is costing me Sickles now, so I'm-"

Millie flung open the door, still rubbing her eyes, but only after making sure that her pyjama top was pushed down to show an eyeful of cleavage. It was so fun making the skinny weasel squirm. It had even been worth pulling her head out from under the pillow to find out why this was costing him money.

She made sure to stand on her tiptoes, so that when she opened her door and heaved her bosom out the door, it would land just beneath Percy's chin. Her plan was executed brilliantly, and Percy took an appalled step backwards.

"What in Merlin's name are you doing?"

"Wondering why you aren't travelling to visit me on the Minister's Sickle? Is it because he knows you're secretly coming over here to carry on with our illicit affair?" She scrunched up her nose and pursed her lips as if awaiting a kiss, then, just for that extra something, she licked her lips, sultrily. "The Minister could get in trouble for funding our wild mornings of passion, you know." She reached forward and grabbed Percy by the tie. She tried to pull him into her room and he did his best to back away, which caused his face to purple from lack of oxygen and an over-tight tie. He smacked at her hands like a little girl, and Millie couldn't stop herself from breaking the façade and laughing in his face.

"You are impossible!" Percy was livid with anger, or maybe his face was just still red from the tie, as he was having some difficulty loosening it.

"Everyone keeps saying that. Honestly, it's getting rather tiresome. No one says, 'Millie, you're gorgeous' or 'Millie, so witty!' or 'Millie, what tits she has.' And since I'm all those things, it's becoming really obnoxious." She changed the flow of the conversation. "So why is this costing you money?" Millie truly did wonder.

"Apparently," Percy pulled at the knot on his tie again, finally getting it to give some, "the Minister believes that I should be able to do the job on the first time, and if not, perhaps I'll be more inspired to do it right the second time if I'm the one paying for it." He glared. "So, if you don't mind, please get yourself out of bed in the morning and get to work on time. I don't make all that much, you know?"

"Boy, your job really does suck a big one. Good thing there are perks."

"Perks?" Percy's face went from annoyed to puzzled.

"Oh yes," Millie said, and raised her shirt, flashing her boobs at him, and making Percy's eyes go wide as he beat a hasty retreat. The pop of Disapparation was deafening.

"Hope the old chap didn't splinch himself," Millie said aloud to the empty room. "Probably the first decent pair he's ever seen. I saw that skinny little Clearwater girl he used to go round with. Stick thin with boobs you'd need a magnifying glass to find."

Millie dressed slowly again, not hurrying in the least, and made it to the pitch at near Noon. Viktor was scowling darkly when she arrived.

"We have a lot of work to do, you know, in order to make it even remotely believable that you'd be picked as a Reserve player for Bulgaria. We have high standards here."

"And yet, they still let you play." Millie was nonplussed and smiling. It angered him even more to see her smirk, and she was all the happier for it. "How are you this morning, Krum?"

"I'm annoyed this _afternoon_, Bulstrode."

"Ooh, someone's told you my last name, and look at you, using it with anger. Very ungentlemanly. Not like you at all. I'm rubbing off on you. I rather like it, you know."

Viktor seemed moderately disturbed by the comparison. "My goal is that no one will ever have to see you fly, given that you're going to be a Reserve "beater," but on the off chance that they do, we have to get you off the ground in a manner that doesn't include, the broom dumping you back upon it. Also you need to be able to swing a bat-"

"Oh, I'm good at that. I can swing things and hit things and—"

"—as you fly."

"That's ludicrous. No mortal can do that."

"And yet wizards and witches manage to do it every day. Do it well even. In your case, I'll settle for you swinging a bat and not falling off your broom. Come on."

All business then. Well, she'd see what she could about that. She followed behind him, stepping on his heels a couple of times, on purpose, and wondering if anyone had ever told him that he walked sort of like a duck. Kind of waddled even. Of course, nobody had probably said something so uncomplimentary to the Great Viktor Krum, Legendary Seeker. "Did you know you walk like a duck?"

"Did you know you fly like an owl trying to commit suicide?"

"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning," Millie huffed.

"I wouldn't remember. That was _hours_ago." He paused. "For some of us."

"Well, excuse me Mr Punctual Platypus."

Viktor turned toward her, finger out, a habit that Millie noted only showed itself when he was thoroughly perturbed, as though he was about to fire back an angry retort, then rolled his eyes, whirled back around and continued walking in silence until they were on the pitch.

Viktor retrieved a Comet 360 practice broom from the locker rooms, or so he said it was a Comet 360. Millie couldn't tell one twig from another.

"Now, if you'll just allow me to—" Viktor began.

Millie jerked the broomstick from his hand and mounted it. Probably the broom she had yesterday was just temperamental. That was all. She kicked off hard from the ground, the broom took a small leap, bucked and Millie landed in a puddle.

"Ready to let me help you yet?"

Millie glared and climbed back onto the broom—or tried to. It shot off across the pitch without her.

"You're a big old cheater!" Millie shouted after it, shaking her fist at the vile broom. She could hear Viktor sniggering behind her. She got close to the broom, grabbed for it, and it shot out of the way again, giving her a merry chase around the pitch. It would go forward, Millie would get close, and away it would shoot again. They went around the pitch at least three times, with Millie panting and breathless and ready to turn one Comet 360 into a pile of smouldering twigs, if only her _Incendio_could catch the wretched thing. Instead, several burnt patches on the sod might be difficult to explain later, not that she cared. Viktor put a stop to the chase when she missed his favourite boy parts by inches shooting a stream of flame directly between his legs, in an attempt to hit the broom behind him.

"That's enough!" Viktor shouted, stomping his foot and looking rather like a comical child when doing so. If Millie hadn't been so angry at the broom, she might have been unable to keep from laughing. That was not the reaction he was clearly looking for, and she was still plotting broomicide.

"Give it over, Krum, so that I can make it into tiny match sticks, then set them on fire, one by one." She thought she saw the broom tremble and felt a modicum of satisfaction at its fear.

"This is not a burning lesson. It's a flying lesson, and you're going to listen to me!" he shouted.

Millie had to admit, he was kind of sexy when he got all red faced and shouty like that. Besides she couldn't go home until this mission was done, and she did have to gain the trust of the team if she was going to find out who was selling the team's secrets to those evil Irish leprechauns. Still, she was not a girl who flew. She gave Viktor her fiercest look. "I swear if I fall and kill myself, I will haunt you for life, and show up shrieking boo every single time you try to have sex, so that the girl runs away screaming. I mean, I'll have to shut my eyes not to be repulsed by seeing you naked, but I'll do it. I'm motivated."

"You won't fall if you actually listen to what I'm telling you." Viktor rolled his eyes as though what he'd said had just penetrated his skull. "Which means I expect you to be flat of your back in no time." Viktor handed her the broom. "First, you'll want to put it between your legs."

"I do hope your pickup lines are better than that. Really? Is that the best you can do?"

"I'm not trying to pick you up. I'm trying to teach you to fly."

"Of course you're not trying to pick _me_up. As if you'd ever have a chance with someone like me. Don't make me laugh." She did, however, throw one leg over the broom and grasp it between her thighs to accommodate his request.

"Keep your broom straight," Viktor instructed. "Hands high on the stick and you should—" His hand pulled the back of the broom up so that it was fully horizontal.

"Oh. My. God. You touched my bum!"

Viktor yanked his hand back as if burned. "What? I did not!"

"You totally did. You didn't just touch it either. You _caressed_my arse."

Viktor's mouth made an appalled "o" shape. "I—I—I—" he stammered.

"You listen to me, Mister! I know that you've probably not had too many opportunities to grab yourself a handful of an arse this divine—I mean I've seen those little trim and toned Quidditch girls with no bum and no boobs—not even anything to grab hold of there. But, that does not give you the right to play grab arse with me."

Viktor, still spluttering, managed to get out words, finally. "I did not touch your bum!"

Clicking her tongue and shaking her head in abject sympathy, Millie patted Viktor's shoulder consolingly, with the broomstick still grasped between her thighs. "It's okay. I know this much woman is hard to resist. Especially when you surround yourself with these little bits of nothing women. I mean who could blame you for picking up a fork and eating when you see a feast like this?"

"I did not—I wasn't—I won't. I do not want to eat you!"

"Oh dear. This is bad. You're not making sense at all. I have a stronger effect than even I knew."

Viktor's whole face registered his horror at the turn of this conversation. "I'm not making sense!" he asked, trying to take back the conversation that had spun so wildly off into an unchartered direction.

"Well, admitting it is half the battle. I think you've had as much of me as you can stand, and still maintain proper boundaries today. I mean, I'm willing to let that bum grab go, given that I know the temptation a woman like me is for a man like you."

"A man like me?" Viktor was wearing a boggled look that Millie knew meant he was done, wiped out, finished. She had won. She liked winning.

"I'm just going to go on back to the flat the Minister set up for me here before you do something you regret and I have to clock you a good one."

"Me—I—I don't even…"

And Millie left the pitch again without ever actually flying. This job. It was a piece of cake.

Millie groaned when the knock came at her door the following morning. Weasley was an annoying git. And annoying gits with stuffed shirts and too-tight pants deserved a shock first thing in the morning. Millie was almost giddy at the prospect of shocking Percy, and she dropped her pyjama bottoms and knickers to the floor, bent in half and used her wand to open the door. Presenting Percy with an eyeful of her naked bum.

Unfortunately, the answering voice was far deeper than Percy Weasley's.

"I was quite certain it was morning when I left London." It was the Minister, Kingsley Shacklebolt's deep and dulcet tone. "Seems I've miscalculated the time. I've come at the full moon. Great big, bright moon at that."

"Eep!" Millie shrieked and in her haste to pull up her knickers, she tripped over the clothes gathered around her ankles, and landed in a heap of tangled legs and garments.

"Is this why the Junior Undersecretary comes back pale-faced and wide-eyed each day? I thought the International Portkey was just too much for his stomach first thing in the morning. Seems it was the eyeful he was getting that was making him useless for a good part of the day. I mean, yesterday he brought me corned beef when he went out for my lunch. I hate corned beef. Usually the little kiss arse never misses a chance to please me." The Minister leaned his shoulder against the frame of the door and crossed his arms, his baldhead shining, earring glistening, in the early morning light that shone through the window.

Millie was still struggling with her knickers, finally managing to get both feet in the correct holes and yanking them up, as she stood. "What the bloody hell are you doing in Bulgaria?" she demanded.

"Besides being mooned by my employee?"

Millie glared. "I was mooning Weasley. Not you. You just have an annoying habit of being where you're not wanted."

"Oh, so you want Weasley then?"

"I am so about to kick your ruddy tail. You take that back." Millie balled her fists.

"Which will earn you a one way ticket to Azkaban."

Millie realised something for the first time. "We're in Bulgaria. You have no power here."

"Is that a theory you really want to test?"

Millie wasn't sure she did.

"Besides, I'm visiting your mother today in France. I can always inform her of your behaviour."

"You're going to tell on me?" Millie asked with incredulity.

"Depends. You going to get your bum to work?" Kingsley started to leave, and then turned back to look at her. "Do put clothes on it first though, yeah?"

Millie made a foreign noise. She wasn't accustomed to being on the losing end of any conversation. She didn't like it much either.

To add insult to injury, Kingsley said, "And don't give Weasley a hard time when I send him here tomorrow."

"You know, I might be awake and at work on time tomorrow. And, that being the case, I won't need Mr Kiss Arse to come and annoy me."

"Well, that could be, but I do so enjoy annoying the both of you. I think I'll send him anyway."

She really hated him.

Millie entered the office of the Bulgarian Quidditch Team pretty much on time. Or, at least not four hours late. Viktor jumped up from where he was lounging with his feet propped up on his boss's desk, releasing a Snitch, catching it deftly and repeating the process. He nearly fell out of his chair when Millie arrived.

"You are here early."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious. I hadn't realised." She rolled her eyes.

"It's just you're not usually—I mean, hard time sleeping last night?"

"I was sleeping just fine until Minister Tattletale showed up at my door, got himself an eyeful of my bare arse and headed off to France to be blown by my mother."

Scratching his head, brow furrowed, Viktor raised his hands in supplication. "Huh?"

"What part of that wasn't clear, Krum?"

"What part of it was?"

Millie took off to the locker rooms and quickly began rifling through lockers, slamming doors open, tossing things about and knocking unidentifiable Quidditch paraphernalia to the floor.

"Looking for something?" Viktor asked, following behind her.

"You said I get to hit things with a bat. I'm ready to do that now. I have anger issues today. I need a bat."

"You know you're supposed to do that _as_you fly, right? The Bludgers sort of expect you to be, you know, in the air when you're swinging the bat."

Millicent turned a disgusted look on him. "I'm really tired of everyone's rules. I'm doing this my way. She pulled a bat from a locker, gave it a few swings that made Viktor take a large step backwards and headed out onto the pitch, where she was surprised to find the Bulgarian Quidditch team flying about and practicing. The sky was alive with streaks of red practice robes blurring across the sky.

"Why are they out here?" Millie turned to Viktor.

"They do have to practice. It's sort of their job."

"And they get paid valuable Galleons to go larking about on brooms. Ridic—" Millie couldn't finish her insult. A Bludger was hurdling straight at Viktor's head. She jumped into action, gave her bat a swing, and the Bludger flew back into the air, and knocked some skinny twit off her broom. Poor girl only avoided death because a teammate was quick with the wand work and slowed her fall. She still landed with an audible oomph and the look she shot Millie was one of utter distaste.

The rest of the team landed to check on their fallen comrade… mostly. Maybe… Not so much. They gave the tiny girl a once over, punched her on the shoulder with a 'you'll be fine' and fast-stepped their way over to Millie.

"Merlin, woman, that was a hell of a save you made there," said one Bulgarian bloke that Millie thought had a very pretty face.

"I haven't seen a save like that since—well, ever really. Viktor, she really saved your arse," said a tiny girl with a hopelessly flat chest, but good taste, so Millie felt pity.

"Aren't you all supposed to be practicing?" Viktor asked, annoyed that his own reflexes had been called into question.

"So this is our new Beater," said Mr Pretty Face. "Why isn't she practicing with us?"

"Oh, I don't fly," said Millie, forgetting that whole undercover part of her mission. When you knew this much, sometimes it was hard to remember everything.

Krum tried for the save. "She doesn't fly on our brooms. She's British. British birds are dead picky about what they fly on."

One of the twiggy-shaped girls Millie hadn't noticed before spoke up. "Reckon that'd have to be a reinforced broom to hold an arse that big."

There's this thing about Beaters' bats. They have many uses, some of which have nothing to do with Bludgers. Millie took a good swing and caught the smart-mouthed girl just behind the knees, knocking the tiny woman flat of her own too small arse.

Then Ms Drama Queen began rolling about moaning that her leg was broken, and despite the fact that Millie insisted it was just a "light tap" and that the rude girl deserved far more than what she had got, Viktor took her bat away and sent her home.

This job was sucking more and more. She'd really needed to hit things this morning, and now she had nothing to hit things with.

The knock at the door the following morning was anticipated given the Minister's previous warning. Millie let Percy Weasley grow more and more impatient with each pounding, before she flung open the door in a rush, grabbed Percy and planted a kiss solidly on his mouth… only, his lips felt far too full and the stubble that scratched her face was clearly not Weasley-stubble.

She pulled away to find a wide-eyed, startled, and thoroughly-kissed Viktor standing in the doorway of her room.

"You're supposed to be Weasley!" Millie accused.

Still stunned, Viktor found his voice. "Harry Potter's friend?" he asked.

"Not that one. Weasleys come in herds."

"Do you kiss them all?"

"Why are you here?" Millie demanded. She looked at the clock across the room. "I'm not even late yet. And I'm still not getting on a broom, so why bother going to the pitch anyway? You won't let me do the fun stuff."

"This is—er—um—awkward," Viktor stammered, face flushed, eyes darting around.

"You're telling me. I haven't even brushed my teeth yet, and now I probably have the lurgy from kissing you. No way my toothpaste is strong enough to cure me of that."

"Oi! Do you know how many women want to be kissed by me?"

"I can't help it that Bulgarian women are seriously lacking in standards." Millie walked into the bathroom, slammed the door and started the shower—after brushing Krum germs off her teeth.

She washed her hair slowly, lathering up, rinsing and repeating twice. She used her lavender scented soap, she shaved her legs, she spent so much time under the steamy spray that not even the strongest Warming Charm could keep the water from turning icy. She shut off the tap as she stepped out from behind the curtain, only to be faced with a broad Bulgarian shoulders and a trim back and denim-clad bum staring back at her as Viktor took a piss in her toilet.

"What. The. Hell?" Millie shrieked.

Never startle a man when he's taking a pee. Viktor startled and turned… and peed right on her foot.

They both looked at her foot, too startled to speak.

"I—" Viktor started.

"You—" Millie choked out, "—did not just pee on my foot."

"Um, well—" Viktor looked guiltily up at her, his willy limp and dangling from his unzipped trousers. He was staring at her breasts when he answered, causing Millie to jerk the shower curtain around her nudeness. "It's all your fault. You don't scream at a person trying to pee and expect not to get—erm—sprinkled."

"Who goes into someone they barely even know's loo while they're showering and pees?" Millie retorted. "Can you say pervert?"

"I'm not! You were in here forever, and I really had to go. You just have bad timing."

Millie glared, pointed at the door for him to get out and then jerked the shower curtain closed. She was so angry that the ice cold water didn't even register as she scrubbed her toes.

She exited the bathroom wrapped in a fluffy robe… and socks. She was prepared.

Viktor was pacing about the room with so much nervous energy that it was almost tangible.

She entered the room with her arms crossed. "Bladder empty?" she asked. "Seems an important question at the moment. I'd hate to think we were about to row when you had a loaded weapon hidden in your trousers."

Viktor had the grace to flush crimson. "I don't want to row. I've come over to sack you."

"First you pee on me and then you sack me? Go ahead and tell me my arse is too big, so my morning will be complete, why don't you? Hell, you make Weasley's visits look like roses and candy." Millie crossed the room and stomped his toe. Grant it, her sock feet didn't do much damage to his boot clad ones, but it did make her feel better.

In some strange form of apology, Viktor said, "I like big arses."

Millie slugged him in the nose and blood squirted her in the eye. "God, I hate you!" she shouted going for a flannel to wipe her face.

"I was giving you a compliment!" Viktor protested, as Millie handed him ice wrapped in a towel to place on his crooked nose.

"Your nose is crooked," she said.

"Been broken about five times," Viktor said, placing the ice on the bridge.

"Compliment girls often then, do you?"

Viktor glared.

"Can't imagine that with your charm, you ever get laid. Good thing you're kind of cute, you know, in a brutish sort of way. I mean, if one looks past your duck-footed walk, and your crooked nose and that ridiculous haircut and-"

Viktor held up the hand that wasn't holding the ice pack on his nose. "I get where you're going, thanks."

Millie shrugged and went back into the bathroom. Viktor followed. Bulgarians apparently didn't place much value on things like boundaries and personal space.

"Do you mind?" she asked. "I realise that for you peeing is a spectator sport, but I rather like to do it in private myself."

"Oh," Viktor said, looking abashed.

Millie came out to find Viktor seated on the side of her bed, and she took the trunk from beneath it and opened it up, beginning to toss clothing inside.

"What are you doing?" Viktor asked.

"Well, if I'm sacked, I guess I'll be going back to London today."

"Oh." Viktor's black eyebrows furrowed together so that they looked like one long caterpillar over his eyes.

"Well, I mean, I have no reason to stay, right? Guess someone else will have to take care of those mean and evil Irish secret stealers."

"I guess." Viktor scratched at the carpet with the toe of his boot. "It's just. You have the biggest tits I've ever seen. I was going to ask them—I mean, you, to dinner."

Flummoxed, Millie stopped packing. "So you came over here to sack me, pee on me, bleed on me and then ask me out?"

"The peeing and bleeding were not planned. I improvised those parts. I'm good under pressure that way."

"Wooing practices in Bulgaria are weird."

"But unforgettable," Viktor said with a smile. "And you do have great tits." He covered his nose with one hand and his crotch with the other when he said this, just in case. But Millie chose not to be violent.

"No doubt about that," Millie agreed. "You'd never find another pair like this in a Merlin-forsaken place like Bulgaria."

A sharp knock came at Millie's door before she could continue. "I'll go out with you, but you have to do something for me first…"

"I don't like that look in your eye," Viktor said.

Percy Weasley went back to England with a wet shoe…

One additional Author's Note:  
"You have no power here."—that is, of course, lifted directly from The Wizard of Oz.


End file.
